


5 Times You Need Sam wilson

by Fogfire



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 11:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire





	5 Times You Need Sam wilson

1.

You sneak around a pillar, gun ready, ears strained to hear even the faintest sound. This level of the high-rise building you’re in is still under construction, there’s plastic tarp everywhere and from one of the rooms to your far left you can hear the frequent dripping of a leaky faucet.

You’re on your own.

Every breath you take is slow and calculated. You can’t risk any unnecessary noise as you jump out of one pillar, secure the area before you and slip behind the next pillar to shield your back.

You take one hand from the gun and press the watch against your mouth to whisper into the tiny mic.

“Sam! Where are you? What’s the situation?”

There’s only a low crackle in your ear instead of the answer you desire.

You count to five and try it again.

Okay, you tell yourself, Sam needs you. You bite your lip as you come up with a plan.

Three steps.

You will move to the staircase, check if someone’s upstairs and go down to help him.

Just as you move to jump out of your hiding place, heavy footsteps enter the level you’re in. A voice, loud and familiar, calls out to you.

“No use in hiding, Y/N.” They say it lightly, with just a hint of a tease, and it lets a chill run down your spine as you slowly move around the pillar, looking for a chance to fire.

You take a deep breath and whisper into your mic again.

“Sam! The monkey is on my level. I repeat the monkey is on my level. I can’t take him down, I’m out of ammo! I need you up here!”

You don’t wait for an answer as you move forward, looking into an empty room.

Laughter rings through the room.

“You’re getting sloppy, Y/N. I could hear you. You’ve got no ammo! What are you gonna do? Throw your gun at me in the hopes to knock me out?”

You heave a sigh.

“Fine, Stark! Fine! Do you want me to give up? Or do you want to shoot me down like an animal?”

There’s silence, two steps in your direction and then he speaks again.

“Come out of your hiding place, hands in the air, and I will think about it.”

“I won’t come out until you promise, on all of your suits, that you won’t shoot me if I come out. Those bullets hurt like hell!”

“You should know, you took down half of the teams downstairs in the first five minutes.”

You snort. And try to locate him as he speaks.

Finally, you see his left shoe peeking out from behind one of the pillars and another set of shoes right at the door.

“Promise me, Stark, or I won’t come out. You were the one bitching about how you’ve got better things to do than playing paintball with us.”

“Fine. I promise. Are you coming out now?”

“I am.” You tell him and step out from behind the pillar.

Tony shoots out of his hiding place, paintball gun drawn, ready to make a rainbow out of you, but he’s too slow.

Sam’s shot hits him right in the arm and explodes into a fountain of green, staining his training jacket.

“Where did you come from?!” Stark hollers in annoyance and Sam salutes him with a cheeky grin.

“Always one step ahead of you, monkey. My best girl told me she needs me, you think I’m far away?”

Tony grunts. Sam walks over, gun lowered, hand raised, asking for a high five. He thinks the fight is over, but you see just a flicker of silver from behind one of the unfinished walls. You shoot before you realize you’re doing so and are rewarded with Clint’s voice cursing like a sailor.

“You said you were out of Ammo!” Tony claims while Sam high fives you.

“Fifth win in a row, we’re on fire!”

“You’re not allowed to be a team anymore,” Tony claims and helps Clint out from his hiding place, “How did you even see him?”

2.

Gunshots are ringing through the narrow street as you run, jumping behind everything solid enough to protect you whenever you hear another armed drone coming your way.

You’re on your own, but this time, it’s not just fun and paint.

There’s a low crackle in your earpiece and you press a finger against it as you throw yourself behind a pile of wooden boxes. The one on top burst into millions of wooden splinters as a drone empties its ammo inside it. You’re glad it was just the box and not your body.

“I’m on my way to the target, ten minutes top, faster if you guys could do something about the drones coming my way. How’s the situation over there?”

“Tight,” Sam’s voice is strained. As one of the few Avengers that can fly, he’s incredibly useful against this shitload of drones, but he’s got also most of the work to do.

“Did you guys come up with any idea of how I’m going to make it out of the target after I placed the bomb?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice professional. You have your orders, you’re going to follow them, no matter the cost.

“I’m going to pick you up,” Sam says, matter-of-factly and you don’t dare to argue with him. You just hope he will make it there in time.

You pick up speed again, running as fast as you can from one possible hiding spot to the next.

You crash into a stone wall hard enough to let a sharp pain shoot through your shoulder. You keep running.

You slip on a small patch of ice, your knees colliding with the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of you for a moment. You get up and keep running.

.

“I’m at the target,” you pant into the mic, “Sam, tell me you’re close.”

“I’m close!” He yells back and you can literally feel the lie in his words.

“Doesn’t matter,” you tell him, “Time’s up, I have to activate the bomb.”

You look at the factory around you, drones swarming out of boxes, walls, crates as if they’re giant bees and you’re in the middle of the swarm.

You press the button without hesitation, activating the only thing that can possibly take out all of them at once.

And then you turn and run like you never have before.

If you can make it to the front door in time, you might have a chance.

“Sam!” You yell into your mic, “I’m running to the entrance, but I need you to pick me up! I’m dead serious here! I need you!”

There’s no answer in your earpiece. You keep running anyway.

You strain your ears, hoping to hear the sound of his wings or even his voice, but instead, you hear the countdown running out and the almost inaudible click as the timer goes from 1 to 0.

The door is right in front of you. You jump through and keep on running, eyes on the road.

You don’t see Sam shooting out of the sky, you don’t see his arms stretch out as he grabs you and turns with a flick of his wings, just in time.

“Did you think I wouldn’t make it?” He asks and has the audacity to grin as he moves the two of you out of the way as a burning drone flies past you.

You just laugh, unable to speak.

3.

It’s past midnight and you lie in your bed, counting the ways in which you’ve almost died, hoping to fall asleep, but it’s to no avail. The sounds coming from next door are just too disturbing to fall asleep too and you find yourself pulling your phone from your nightstand before you can stop yourself.

Y/N: Are you awake?

Sam: Unfortunately I am, why?

Y/N: Unfortunately? What did you do? You were fine yesterday… I mean the day before yesterday.

Sam: Why do you always assume it’s my fault?

Y/N: Well, is it?

Instead of writing back, he calls you and you pick up, feeling way happier than you should.

“It’s not the point,” he greets you with a husky voice and you laugh.

“That means it is your fault. What did you do?”

“Some stupid dare. I got a cold.”

“Ooooh, did poor Sam get the sniffles?” You laugh softly, “Do you want me to bring you soup?”

“I’m already sick, why would I want your soup?” He asks back and you laugh again, stopping short when he asks you why you’re still awake.

“My neighbors are up,” you tell him, trying to ignore the explicit noise coming from beneath the thin walls.

“So?”

“Well, they are a young, married couple and my walls are very thin.”

Sam laughs. “There’s a seven eleven on your way. I’ll tell you what to bring.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you need to hear my voice to fall asleep?”

“I do not.”

“You do. Now play nice and tell me what I want to hear.”

“I need to get out of this apartment before I lose my mind?”

“Fair enough. Now, get something to write. I want Oreos. And not the cheap ones.”

4.

Fighting in the rain is terrible.

Fighting in a rainstorm is downright crazy.

Fighting on a freaking ship in a rainstorm is downright insane.

“I want to die,” you tell no one in particular as Clint brings the Quinjet to a height where you can jump out and onto the ship below.

“Cheer up, rockstar,” Sam claps his hand on your shoulders and for a brief moment you think of that hand and that arm slung around your shoulder as you lounge on his couch and dip Oreos into cups of milk when you should be sleeping. You blink and the memory is gone.

You frown instead.

“I’m going to die,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, “Someone’s going to kick me off that freaking nutshell and the stealth suit I’m wearing to protect me will pull me down and I die.”

A few of the other’s turn around to send you concerned looks.

“I’m afraid of ships, okay?” You complain but grab your parachute anyway.

“You can deal with being almost killed by explosions but you’re afraid of fighting on a ship?” Sam asks and ushers you forward in line. Steve jumps out first.

“An explosion doesn’t think,” you explain, “If you’re lucky and know what to do, you can survive easily. A ship filled with enemies is different. Every one of them can think and they want to shoot me or push me into the freaking sea.”

“I’ll buy you oreo’s when this is over,” Sam offers and pushes you out of the Quinjet when you open your mouth to answer.

.

You should have stayed inside. You’re soaking wet when you finally make it onto the ship. If you survive this, you will get rewarded with the worst cold in history.

You focus on fighting instead, on making your way from one point to the other on the slippery wet floor, on balancing yourself on a ship that moves beneath your body.

“See,” Sam shouts from above, his voice barely audible even through the earpiece, “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“How are you even able to fly?” You ask back, eyes on him. What a stupid, stupid mistake.

Something hits you out of nowhere, with enough force to knock the breath out of you.

You stagger, one, two steps backward, there’s something hard pressing into your back. You pull your fists up, trying to see who’s attacked you. Something moves right between your feet. You try to jump away, slip on the marine roop and fall backward. And this time, there’s no railing holding you back.

The sea is cold, colder than you’d thought it could be, but you were right about your stealth suit pulling you down. You try to swim up, but the water is black and the sky is black and you can’t tell where’s up and down in this darkness surrounding you.

.

When you come back to your senses, you’re lying on your back, someone’s hands on your chest, someone’s lips on your own. You feel a cough wracking your body and that someone moves away, helps you up as you cough and spit disgustingly salty sea water onto your wet legs.

You take a breath, and then another one. Your throat burns, your eyes prick, and one of your ribs feels like it might be broken, but your lips burn as well and you turn around.

“Easy there, Rockstar,” Sam mumbles softly, pushing you back down onto the ground, “Steve’s cleaning up, Nat’s somewhere questioning the bad guys and Clint is trying to get closer so we can get you out of the rain.”

“Sam!” You croak, “I need you to-” Your voice breaks and you swallow dryly, suddenly anxious about what you wanted to say.

“You need me to what?” He asks, “Are you in pain? Do you need me to get you something?”

“I need you to do that again,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, “That thing with your lips.”

He stares at you in silence for a second that feels like a lifetime, before his mouth pulls into a lazy grin.

“You’re right,” he mumbles slowly, “You do seem awfully out of breath.”

The two of you lean forward at exactly the same time, your lips meeting right in the middle.

The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, tasting and testing the waters.

Sam pulls back first but grabs your hands while he does so and presses his forehead against yours.

“Not to ruin the mood,” he whispers, “But we’re still on a mission. And you taste like you’ve tried to french kiss the sea.”

“We could pick up where we left when we get back?” You offer.

“Oreos on my couch?”

Now it’s your turn to pull your lips into a lazy smile.

“Deal.”

5.

“I hate this color,” you tell Sam as you carefully place the dress in the back of the car.

“I know,” he says, “But you look good in it.”

“No, I don’t,” you disagree, “That’s why my cousin picked it. She’s the bride. She can’t have the bridesmaids looking better than her.”

Sam laughs and pulls the passenger door open for you.

“I don’t know if I should be proud of you for acknowledging your own beauty or worried because of your ego.”

“Both,” you tell him and kiss his cheek before you get in the car, “And because I have such a big ego, I’m going to choose the music on this car ride.”

“Only if I can choose on which side of the bed I’m going to sleep in the hotel.”

“Only if I can choose what time we’re leaving the party tonight.”

.

A day later you stand in front of the mirror in your hotel room, looking at the chartreuse color of your bridesmaid dress as Sam steps out of the bathroom.

“Can you do my tie?” He asks, holding up a tie in the exact same color of your dress.

“I know that you’re very much capable of doing it yourself,” you tell Sam as you tie it for him. He smiles down at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I know you love when I tie it for you and I think that is cute, but it can only cheer me up so much when I have to realize that chartreuse freaking suits you.”

Sam grins cheekily. “Everything suits me.”

“You’re damn right,” You sigh, “And I’ll have to take a drink to get through with this.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Sam warns you as you pour yourself a glass, “You’re a lightweight.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. And you snore when you drink. I don’t want to spend my time in this amazing Hotel with you snoring into my ear.”

“You snore all the time,” you swat at him as you take the first sip, “And I never complain.”

Sam smirks. “You’ve already told me three times that I have a very cute snore, thank you very much.”

You pout. “It’s unfair. You sound just like a cat.”

.

Three hours later you’re pulling a guy walking your way to the side.

“You. I have no clue who you are, the bride’s freaking out. I need you to get her father, big guy, sweats a lot, has a stomach for three? Not the mother, just the father. He’s the calmer one. The other guy looks like this.” You show him a picture of Sam on your phone, “Black suit, chartreuse tie, the most attractive guy in the room, you can’t miss him. Tell him I need him here, it’s an emergency… Now go.”

Two minutes later Sam barges into the hallway, a look of panic on his face that calms down when he sees you.

“Are you okay? That guy was talking about an emergency.”

“Bride’s freaking out,” you tell him, “Her father should be on the way.”

“You’re not trying to calm her down?” He asks surprised.

“I tried to. She screamed at me. Apparently, I will never get married with an attitude like mine. I do not understand that chartreuse is a hip color that channels the power of nature, my job is not child safe and sarcasm kills relationships. Oh and apparently I’m not allowed to stand with the others when she throws the flowers because I’m too good at catching stuff and it would be unfair.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Just a bit,” you answer and bite your lip before you can say something you might regret later. Right then your uncle walks down the hallway and sends you a smile.

“Go on, kids,” he says, “We will be down in a second. That’s just the nerves. That happens to every bride.”

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t act that way,” you tell Sam before you can stop yourself as you walk down towards the main event. You freeze, but he just takes your hand and squeezes it.

.

You manage to keep the smile on your lips during the rest of the wedding, but as everyone lines up for the flower toss, Sam grabs your hand and pulls you up.

“Come on, it’s time to go to bed.”

“What?” You look at him in surprise, “It’s not even that late.”

He sends you a look that makes you shut up and follow him.

When the door of your hotel room closes behind you, he turns around, pinning you against the door.

“You always finish my Oreos before I get the chance,” he starts, “You snore when you drink and you wake me up when you can’t sleep. You can’t stop complaining when you hate something, like the color chartreuse-”

“It’s the worst color,” you defend yourself and he shushes you with a quick, heated kiss.

“You take your job seriously and that scares me sometimes and your sarcasm is on a whole other level, but I love you and I need you by my side. I want to marry you. Someday. Not today, preferably.”

“Are you asking me to-”

“No,” Sam interrupts you, “I’m not a dick. I don’t ask you to be my wife on the wedding of someone else. But it will happen and you won’t see it coming.”

“I would argue about that surprise thing with you, but I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ll just tell you that when you’ll ask, I’ll say yes.”

“Good,” Sam grins, “Now, can I help you out of that awful dress?”

“Only if you rip it, please.”


End file.
